


Anthony, Meet Melody

by B1nary_S0lo



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adoption, Canon Character of Color, Family, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post Episode: s06e01-e02 Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon, Post-Episode: P.S., Post-Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, Siblings, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/B1nary_S0lo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Brian Williams met his older sister for the first time in January, 1970. At the time, he was twenty four years old. His older sister was seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: 1970

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this story ever since I saw "P.S." It took me awhile to get it right.
> 
> I wrote it partially for the purpose of answering two questions: 1) How did young Melody Pond get from 1970s New York to 1990s England? and 2) What would Melody's relationship with her adopted brother, Anthony, be like?

Anthony Brian Williams met his older sister for the first time in January, 1970. At the time, he was twenty four years old. His older sister was seven.

It was a chilly, icy evening. Anthony had the collar of his thick wool coat pulled up to his chin. His right hand was tucked firmly into his coat pocket, while his left carried a leather briefcase.

Anthony worked for a large, important newspaper in downtown Manhattan. Every day, he saw important men in important suits stroll in and out through the glass revolving doors. But Anthony’s job was not important. He was a receptionist. He had held the job for more than a year, ever since his graduation from the NYU Journalism Institute, but the promotion to beat reporter had not come. He was thinking about this that night in January, as he walked the many blocks from the subway to his tiny apartment in Chelsea. He was thinking about this just before he met Melody Pond.

First, he heard a noise. A clattering, metallic noise, and then another underneath it, which sounded a bit like wind rushing in a confined space. He heard running footsteps. Anthony paused, curious.

A bedraggled man suddenly ran out from an alleyway just ahead of where Anthony stood. So intent was he on getting away from something that he smashed right into the young man, almost knocking him over. Anthony opened his mouth to protest, but the man didn’t even pause for so much as an “excuse me” before he was off and running again, vanishing into the night. The other noise in the alley, the rushing, wind-like noise, continued.

Anthony took a cautious step forward, his breath catching in his throat. Curiosity was not the safest quality a person could possess in New York in 1970. Especially where odd noises in alleys were concerned. Anthony, however, was possessed of a strong imagination as well as a strong curiosity. For, from the time he was very young, his mother and father had been telling him stories. Fantastic stories. Stories that, in his most logical moments, he could hardly bring himself to believe, but that deep down he not only believed in, but hoped for.

So, Anthony peered around the corner of the brick wall and into the alley. It was a typical Chelsea alleyway in every aspect but one: it was currently filled with golden, pulsing light, and the light radiated from a small, standing figure. Anthony suddenly had trouble breathing normally. His parents’ stories came back to him in even more of a rush. Words passed through his head— _Time Lord_ , _Regeneration_ , _time travel_.

Suddenly, the light cleared. Standing in its place was a very young girl, barely more than two years old, with soft features, dark skin, and short, frizzy hair. Anthony saw her hold up her hands, studying them intently, as if she’d never seen them before. She twirled in place, looking herself over from top to bottom. She giggled. Her shabby dress, Anthony noticed, was several sizes too big for her.

She took a step forward, and fell.

Anthony ran to her without thinking. He was too late to catch her, but he immediately knelt to see if she was all right. She lay sprawled face-first on the ground, out cold. Anthony was relieved to see that she was still breathing. He checked her pulse, just as his father had shown him, and turned her over just enough to ensure that she wasn’t too injured to move. Once he was sure of this, he scooped her up and carried her, cradled in his arms, to his apartment.

His sister, Melody.

 

She slept for a long time. So long that Anthony began to worry. He checked up on her and was both relieved and concerned to see that nothing about her condition had changed. She did not appear to be hurt. Her face, which should have been scratched or bruised from her fall in the alley, was unmarked. No, she was just sleeping, her hair spread around her on the pillow. Deeply, deeply sleeping.

One of the first things Anthony did, after he’d settled Melody and checked her two or three times, was call his parents. Nearing their seventies, they had been retired for years in a small house in Queens. Anthony kept in regular contact with them. It was hard being a time traveler, or the child of time travelers, in Anthony’s case. You knew and believed in things that the people around you were unaware of. This isolation had bred a strong closeness in the Williams family. The elder Williamses knew that they could trust their son with anything. Anthony knew he could always contact his parents in emergencies, especially ones of this particular nature.

Mrs. Williams answered on the third ring. Anthony allowed her one moment to fuss over him before sharing his news. Once his story was told, she fell silent for several long moments.

“Mum?” he said. “Are you okay?”

He heard her take in a sharp breath.

“I looked for her,” she said, after a moment. “I knew I wouldn’t find her, but still, I looked. Every time I was in the city.”

She paused, sighing deeply. Anthony could imagine her gestures, how she would shake her head and look to the floor.

“I shouldn’t be upset,” she said. “It was all so long ago, and I know she’s going to be all right. Is all right. Was all right. But, to think of her, so little. All alone…”

Anthony didn’t say anything. He knew only vague details about the circumstances of his sister’s birth, circumstances which had resulted in his sister’s rather confusing timeline. His parents didn’t like to talk about it. Among what little he knew was the fact that it had been painful and traumatic, and that it had left his mother infertile. He had been adopted in 1946.

“Maybe,” said Anthony carefully, “maybe this is a second chance.”

“A second chance for what?”

“To raise her.”

His mother fell silent again. He thought he could imagine what she was thinking, for it was what he was picturing, too. Melody growing up in his parents’ home. The whole family together for the first time, for always.

His mother gave another sniff.

“No,” she said. “No. We have to send her… send her ahead. If we disrupt her timeline, your father and I might never get married. Too much will change, and I don’t want it changed. Not one moment of it. Even the… painful things. They have to stay.”

Anthony let his shoulders slump.

“What should we do, then?” he said.

“I’ll talk to your father,” she said. “We have some contacts. We might be able to help her go where she needs to go. I think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“Right,” said Anthony. “But, then, you’re not going to see her?”

Another pause. He heard her swallow.

“I think if we saw her,” she said, “we’d never let her go.”

Anthony opened his mouth, tried to speak. He closed it slowly.

“So,” he said, “should I tell her… who I am?”

“Maybe not,” Mrs. Williams said, “even knowing you exist, in this time and place, might give her too much foreknowledge. It might change too much.”

“Oh,” said Anthony. “Okay, I understand.”

“Good boy,” she said. There was fondness in her voice. “Your father and I’ll be in touch.”

She hung up. Anthony stared at the dead receiver for several moments. He probably would have stared at it even longer, if not for what happened next.

Someone screamed—“ _Yaaah!!!_ ”—and he felt skinny but surprisingly strong arms latch around his neck. He stumbled forward, trying desperately to disentangle the small, screaming person who was now pummeling every inch of him they could reach.

Finally, with a flail of his arms and a shake of his torso, the child came loose. She fell to the ground with a cry of “ow!” Anthony turned, and was not at all surprised to find Melody, already leaping to her feet and rushing at him again.

“Hey! Hey! _Hey!_ ”

He managed to stop her reaching him, pressing his hand to her forehead so that, like a character in a Saturday morning cartoon, she was unable to hit him with her fists. She screeched and pushed against him, a blur of limbs.

“Lemme go! Lemme _go!_ ”

To his dismay, she was pushing against him so hard that his arm was actually giving way. She really was quite strong.

“Melody Pond!” he shouted. “Stop it _right now!_ ”

If anything, this command only seemed to make Melody more furious. She wrenched free of his grasp and punched him in the stomach—hard. He gasped and crumpled to the floor, clutching his injured belly and trying to get his breath back.

“Who are you?” she demanded, standing over him. “How do you know my name?”

When he could only gasp at her, his voice gone with his breath, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled him nearly to his feet so that they were at eye level. Her expression was fierce, angry and wary and not like a child at all. She shook him.

“Answer!” she said.

“I—I know your parents,” Anthony managed to rasp out.

Melody’s eyes widened momentarily, making her look more her own age. But her face quickly hardened.

“Are you lying?” she said fiercely.

“I’m not,” Anthony insisted, wincing. He was breathing more easily now, but being held by the hair was definitely not a pleasant experience. And his ribs were starting to ache.

“Put me down,” he said, as calmly as he could, “and I’ll prove it to you.”

Melody hesitated a moment, then released him. He got to his feet, rubbing his stinging scalp, and hurried over to the chest of drawers he kept in the apartment’s living room/kitchen space. Melody followed close behind, watching him warily.

He opened the first drawer and dug through it. Beneath the many papers within he found what he was looking for—a photo, taken a few years ago on a vacation upstate. In it, Anthony stood with his parents in front of a gleaming blue lake. They stood close together, his mother and father on either side of him. Mrs. Williams’ hair—red, streaked with gray—was pulled back from her shoulders. Mr. Williams, hair wispy and white, had a hand on a nineteen-year-old Anthony’s shoulder. Skinny Anthony smiled shyly at the camera.

Anthony turned and handed the photo to Melody.

“See? There are your parents. And that’s me.”

Melody didn’t seem to be listening. She studied the photograph. Her mouth hung open slightly, and her face was relaxed, unguarded. He saw her trace her finger gently over the right side of the image, where their mother stood.

“I used to have a picture of her,” Melody said quietly. “Of my mother. She was so pretty. But I couldn’t take it with me. Since I ran away.”

She looked back at Anthony, eyes wide.

“You can keep that, if you want,” he said.

She turned her gaze back to the photo. Solemnly, she nodded.

“Are you sleepy?” he said.

Her head had begun to loll, and her eyelids drooped even as she looked at the photo, tracing the image of her mother over and over again. She shook her head.

“Come on,” Anthony said. “You’ve had a rough day.”

He reached for her hand.

“You can sit up and look at the picture as long as you want, okay?”

She gave him a wary glance. Then, seeming to come to a decision, she reached up and took his hand.

He led her back into the room. She climbed into bed. Anthony fluffed her pillow, and she allowed him to tuck her in. Then, without further ceremony, her head fell back against the pillow, and she was asleep in an instant. The picture of her family was still clutched in one of her pudgy hands.

Anthony tiptoed backwards out of the room, clicking the light off as he did. He shut the door and went to sleep on the couch in the living room.

 

Anthony called in sick to work the next day. He was frying eggs by the time Melody came into the living room, yawning but looking far better than she had the day before. There was more of a shine to her skin and her eyes were brighter. She was still wearing, Anthony realized, the too-large brown dress she had been wearing when he’d found her. He would have to get her some new clothes.

She padded over and stared up at him. Her mouth was set in an un-childlike expression of suspicion.

“What are you doing?” she said.

Anthony glanced down at her. That was it, he realized. Her strangeness came half from not seeming like a child at all, and half from seeming like an _older_ child. She looked like a toddler but spoke like a particularly intelligent grade-schooler. It was hard to get used to.

“Good morning,” he said patiently. “I’m making breakfast.”

“What kind of breakfast?”

“Eggs,” he said. “I’m not going to poison you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She frowned.

“I’ve never had eggs before,” she said.

“Well, it’s time you tried them, then,” he said. “You’re… how old, now?”

“Seven,” she said.

She sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

The eggs were nearly done. He flipped them and the yolks broke. Somehow, he always managed to break the yolks.

“I look like a baby,” Melody grumbled.

“Huh?”

“I looked in a mirror,” she said.

“Oh,” said Anthony. “Your regeneration.”

He slid the finished, yellowy eggs onto two plates. He carried them over to the table.

“Come and have some breakfast,” he said.

Melody watched him as he sat down and began to eat. She came over and climbed up onto one of the chairs. Her head barely came up over the tabletop.

“Do you want something to sit on?”

“No.”

She sat on her knees, which seemed to help a little bit. Then she began to eat, first carefully, and then with gusto. In a moment her eggs were gone, and the corners of her mouth were covered with yolk.

“Got a little something there,” Anthony said.

He leaned across the table with a napkin to scrub at the stains, but she flinched away.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just going to clean you up.”

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, glaring.

“I swear I’m not going to hurt you,” Anthony said.

“You were with my mother and father,” Melody said. It was half an accusation, half a question.

“Yes,” said Anthony.

“In the picture,” Melody continued. “They had their arms around you.”

Anthony picked up on jealousy, even some sadness, in her tone. He nodded.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “They’re good friends. I’ve known them for a long time. Since I was a kid.”

“But they’re _my_ mother and father,” said Melody.

“Right,” said Anthony, wondering if he’d said too much.

“I saw them,” Melody said, almost conversationally. “In real life. Mother tried to shoot me.”

“Is—is that so,” Anthony said.

“It’s because of the Doctor,” Melody said, stabbing at her plate with her spoon. “He’s a bad, bad man who makes people do bad things.”

“Really?” said Anthony. “Who told you that?”

Melody stared at him. Her eyes seemed to glaze. She blinked.

“I can’t remember,” she said. “But it’s _true_.”

She said this with such conviction that Anthony decided that it would be better not to argue with her.

He stood up and cleared the plates away. Melody remained in her chair. He could sense her staring at the back of his head.

“You’re not going to send me back?” she said suddenly. “Right?”

Anthony turned. She sounded, and looked, more vulnerable than she had in the entire short time he’d known her. She seemed scared.

“No,” he said with conviction. “I won’t.”

For a moment, it was like she held her breath. Then, she visibly relaxed. Anthony could practically feel the tension drain from the room. Melody looked at the tabletop and kicked her legs, for all the world like a normal child.

“I like my new hair,” she said, suddenly. “It’s prettier than it was before.”

Anthony smiled.

“Glad to hear it,” he said.

He turned back to the dishes.

 

After breakfast, Anthony and Melody went out. She didn’t want to go at first. She was convinced that the people she had run away from would find her. Anthony pointed out that she looked different now. They wouldn’t recognize her even if they were outside.

“And,” he said, as he locked and bolted the apartment door behind him, “you have me. I’ll protect you.”

Melody gave him a look that said she was thoroughly unconvinced about the feasibility of this latter statement, and he had to admit to himself that she had a point. With her strength, it was more likely she would protect him.

They headed down the stairs and out into the neighborhood, where they made their way to a thrift store where Anthony bought a lot of his own clothes. It was cheap, and not too dingy, and Melody really needed new clothes. Not to mention a coat. Already she was shivering.

In the store, Melody picked everything out mostly herself. She seemed excited about all the color. Anthony was glad to see her so happy. But when he reached over to fluff her hair, she pulled away, just as she had at breakfast when he’d tried to clean her up. She seemed unaccustomed to affectionate gestures. Not frightened of them, just… unaccustomed. It made him sad. Throughout his childhood, his parents had always hugged him, ruffled his hair, kissed him goodnight. Theirs had been a warm household. Melody obviously hadn’t experienced much warmth.

They left the store, Melody wearing a new dress and a new coat. As they walked, she skipped and twirled. They detoured to a small park Anthony sometimes liked to walk through on his way to work in the morning. Melody played on the play structure while Anthony kept an eye on her from a park bench. Later, they shared a teeter-totter, and he pushed her on the swings, and on the merry-go-round, until they were too dizzy to swing or spin any longer. After that they bought hotdogs from a cart, went to a toy store Anthony had never noticed before, and he got her a stuffed tiger. By then it had begun to get dark, so they went home and Anthony made some tomato soup. It was from a can, and was not actually very good, but Melody seemed to like it.

“I like that it’s red,” she said, letting some of it fall from her spoon and back into the bowl. “It’s like eating _blood_.”

Afterward, Anthony half carried a thoroughly exhausted Melody to bed, where he once again fluffed her pillows and tucked her in, just as their parents had done for him once.

“Can I have my tiger?” Melody said.

He handed it to her. She clutched it tightly to her chest and looked up at him seriously.

“I like it here,” Melody declared. “It’s fun. I think this is the best day I’ve ever had. Ever.”

Anthony smiled at her fondly. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, and she didn’t pull away.

“I think this is the best day I’ve ever had, too,” said Anthony.

He meant it.

 

Anthony woke the next morning to the phone ringing right next to his ear. He turned over on the couch with a groan and answered.

“Hello?”

“Tony, it’s your dad,” said Mr. Williams.

Anthony sat up.

“Your mum and I just got back,” he said. “From meeting some of our contacts.”

“The time travel contacts?” Anthony said.

He felt a sinking sensation somewhere in his chest.

“Yeah. We were finally able to track down a man in Wales with a Vortex Manipulator. He’s brought it to us. It’s all programmed and ready for Mels to use.”

Anthony said nothing. He took a deep intake of breath.

“Are you all right?” said Mr. Williams.

Anthony tried, and failed, to answer. He heard his father sigh.

“You know she can’t stay with you, Tony,” he said.

His voice was reasonable. Comforting.

“I know,” said Anthony. He sighed. “I know.”

“Well…” said his father, “one of us’ll come into the city today. Give you the thing and the instructions. It isn’t meant to be sent through the mail. You can get away?”

“Of course.”

His father said goodbye, and hung up. Anthony put down the receiver. He pressed his face into his hands so hard it hurt.

 

Anthony was gone and back before Melody even woke up. He found her still fast asleep in bed, one arm spread over her face and the stuffed tiger on the floor. He didn’t wake her. Let her sleep.

He started getting breakfast ready. Scrambled eggs, this time, and tried not to think about the unassuming package that now sat on his coffee table. Tried, and failed.

Really, he told himself, it was good that she was leaving. What would he have done if she’d stayed? Never gone to work again? Somehow hired a nanny? And what about food, school, all the things a kid needed? He could barely afford to keep himself alive, much less a small, traumatized, inhumanly strong young girl with alien DNA. It was all for the best.

He flipped the eggs and tried to pretend that his throat didn’t feel so tight.

Melody came into the room just as he was setting the table. She climbed up onto her chair and began to rock back and forth on it. Anthony laid her plate in front of her.

“Don’t do that,” he said, though not unkindly.

She stopped rocking, picked up her fork, and began to eat with her usual eagerness. Anthony sat down as well. He ate very slowly, not feeling particularly hungry. The lump in his throat only got worse every time he looked at his sister.

“Melody,” he said, suddenly. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

Melody paused in her eating. She frowned.

“I’d probably go wherever the Doctor is,” she said, mouth full. “Or.” She swallowed. “I’d go see my parents.”

She positively beamed at the very idea of this. Anthony felt something that was half relief, half terrible sadness.

“How would you feel,” he said, “if you could go somewhere where you could meet your parents _and_ the Doctor?”

Melody stared at him, suddenly interested.

“I could do that?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “And you’d get to be friends with your parents, too, because they would be kids like you.”

“Wow,” said Melody. “Cool.”

She was positively bouncing with excitement.

“How?” she said.

“I’ll show you.”

Anthony stood up and got the package on the coffee table. He brought it over.

“Inside this box,” he said, “is something called a Vortex Manipulator. It can take you anywhere in time and space.”

“Like the TARDIS,” Melody said. “That’s the Doctor’s spaceship.”

“Right,” said Anthony. “Except it’s a lot smaller, I think.”

He opened the package, almost absentmindedly. He felt like he was in a dream, like his hands weren’t his own. Carefully, he removed what looked like a leather wristband from inside the wrappings of the box. He laid it on the table between them, and flipped open the cover, which revealed a tiny, digital display. On it were pre-set coordinates, which Anthony knew from his father would take a person to Leadworth, England in 1991.

“That’s a time machine?” said Melody.

“You wear it,” Anthony explained. “This one doesn’t have much power left. It will only take you to one place.”

“The place where my mother and father are?”

“Yes.”

Melody looked at the wristband, then back at Anthony.

“I want to go,” she said.

“Okay,” said Anthony quietly. “Why don’t we pack your things, then?”

 

Everything Melody currently owned, except her stuffed tiger, fit easily into Anthony’s briefcase. His actual suitcases were much too large for her to carry comfortably, and he could always find a new briefcase. They went out to the living room together, and Anthony fitted the Vortex Manipulator to her small wrist. She stood before him, suitcase in one hand, tiger under the other arm. Her mouth was set in a look of determination he thought he recognized from his mother. He bent down so they were eye level.

“Ready to go?” he said.

She nodded. He squeezed her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you,” Melody said solemnly.

“You’ll see me again,” said Anthony. He tried to smile. “I’m going to meet you there, remember?”

This was something he and his parents had agreed on. She would need someone to set her up in Leadworth, and his parents knew through foreknowledge that they would no longer be alive in 1991. It would have to be him.

“So, we’ll meet again in just a few minutes,” he said. “There’s no need to be sad.”

She nodded again. He leaned forward and gave her a swift, fierce hug, which she returned, her small arms wrapping around his neck. Then, without another word, he straightened and backed away. He waved at her from across the room, hoping she wouldn’t see how red his eyes were.

Melody smiled. She waved back. Then she pushed the button on the display, and was gone.


	2. Part 2: 1991

By the time Anthony Williams met Melody Pond again, he was forty-five years old. In the intervening years, both of his parents had passed away. He lived alone.

Though he knew the general time and location of Melody’s imminent arrival, he did not know the _exact_ time or place of it. So in November of 1991, just six months after his mother’s death, he traveled to the village where his parents had grown up to look for her.

He stayed in the home of a couple he had been friends with for many years. Blake and Alma Zucker were old work colleagues. The Zuckers wanted children, and had tried for years for a pregnancy without success. Now, they were thinking of adopting. The serendipity of all this made Anthony more than a little uncomfortable.

Every morning, Anthony left the Zucker household before his hosts woke. He walked the circumference of the village, heading in a slightly different direction each day to better facilitate his search. Visiting the village of Leadworth was a surreal experience for Anthony. How many of his parents’ childhood stories had been set here? As he passed through the village square each day he almost believed he recognized the houses, paths, and shops. But, though he kept an eye out for the small, long-nosed boy he had seen in pictures, he never did catch a glimpse of his father. Nor, for that matter, did he find Melody.

On his fifth morning in Leadworth, Anthony woke, dressed, and slipped out the back door of the house into a chilly, misty morning. He would go south today, cut across the fields that lay beside the Zucker house and make his way back into the village.

He crossed the muddy grass and made for a large, lone tree off in the distance. When he reached the tree he stopped and gazed up through its leafless branches. The sky was a shade of whitish gray.

He felt stiff and slow in ways he couldn’t have imagined all those years ago when he first met Melody. He was slowing down, getting old. He could feel it happening little by little.

But his sister, his _parents_ , for that matter, were just starting their lives. Amelia Pond was born in 1989, just two years ago, but she had also died at a ripe old age in 1990. She was ending and beginning all at once, while Anthony chugged along his linear timeline.

A flash of light tore across his vision. It was accompanied by a rushing noise. Familiar, like something out of a dream. His vision cleared, and a high-pitched voice called out.

“Anthony!”

He looked up just in time to catch Melody as she leapt into his arms. His lower back screamed in protest, but he was too surprised and elated to care.

“Melody!”

“Anthony!” she shouted. “Anthony!”

He set her down. Melody was practically hopping with excitement. A leather briefcase and a stuffed giraffe lay on the grass nearby. Anthony had nearly forgotten they existed.

“I made it, didn’t I?” Melody was saying, bobbing up and down on her heels as she spoke. “You look different. Why do you look different?”

“I got old,” he said. “But you look just the same.”

“Of course I do,” she said.

She looked around.

“Where’re my parents?” she said. “And the Doctor? When can I see them?”

His insides squirmed a bit.

“You’ll meet them soon,” he said.

“How soon?”

“Soon.”

Melody stuck out her lower lip. Anthony reached for her hand.

“Come meet my friends?” he said. “They live in that big house over there.”

“I want to see my parents.”

“You have to meet my friends first,” he said. “Those are the rules.”

She sighed and placed her tiny hand in his.

“Who made these rules, anyway?”

“I wish I knew.”

 

Anthony opened the back kitchen door and was relieved to see that the Zuckers were not yet awake. He shut the door behind them and let go of Melody’s hand.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was looking around the house curiously.

“Do your friends know my mother and father?”

“Yes, and no,” he said. “They haven’t met them yet.”

“Oh,” Melody said, sounding bored. “Time travel, right?”

“Right.”

“When can I meet my parents?”

Anthony sighed. He bent down to his sister’s level and took both of her hands in his.

“Here’s the thing, Melody,” he said. “If you want to meet your parents, you’re going to have to be patient, all right?”

“But I’ve already _been_ patient,” she said. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet them.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. You’re going to have to wait a little longer. But trust me, it will be soon.”

Melody pushed his hands away and crossed her arms.

“Come on, Melody,” he said.

She tossed her curls and looked away. He sighed.

“Wait here, okay?” he said. “I need to let my friends know you’re here.”

He moved toward the stairs.

“You’d better be telling the truth,” Melody said.

Anthony paused. He looked back.

“I am,” he said.

Then, he headed upstairs. Now came the really difficult part: waking his hosts and explaining.

 

Explaining was simpler than Anthony had expected. Eerily so.

It was almost the truth. The little girl had been born on the streets, he said, and thus she had no birth certificate or documentation. She claimed her parents were dead, so no one was looking for her or had reported her missing. He had met her in Manhattan several months ago, though only briefly. He’d noticed her on the street and offered her some of his lunch. He’d been planning to report her condition to the police or child services, but hadn’t been able to find her again after their first meeting. And now, to his immense surprise, here she was in Leadworth. She had recognized him as the man who’d been kind to her in New York and followed him back to the house. It was an extraordinary coincidence.

To his utter shock, the Zuckers believed every word of it.

It was, if anything, even simpler to get his friends to agree to the idea of taking Melody in, at least on a temporary basis. If he tried to bring her back with him to America, after all, it would end up causing a lot of trouble for both of them. In fact, the most likely outcome would be Melody being taken in by children services and sent to foster care. The least the Zuckers could do would be to let her stay in England.

He thought about the old adage that it was easiest to con those who wanted to be conned. Not that he was conning his friends. Not really. They wanted a child. Melody needed a family. This way, everyone won.

 

The Zuckers agreed to wait upstairs while he talked to Melody. He found her in the living room lying on the couch, mesmerized by a Saturday morning kid’s show. He sat down next to her.

“Having fun?”

She nodded, tearing her eyes away from the set.

“Yeah,” she said. “I like it here.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a squeaky voiced puppet frolic across the screen, while Anthony considered what to say.

“Would you like to live here?”

Melody looked up.

“My friends don’t mind if you stay here,” he said. “They’ve always wanted kids, and they’re very nice people.”

“What about my parents?”

“Well,” Anthony said, “remember how I said your parents would be kids like you if you came here? Well, if you live with my friends, you’ll get to see your parents as much as you want, play with them every day, because you’ll live in the same town.”

Melody stared down at the floor.

“I get that part,” she said. “But, I kind of thought, maybe I could live with you?”

Anthony looked down at his own feet.

“I’d like that, Melody,” he said. “But it can’t happen.”

“Why?” she said, a whine creeping in to her voice.

“Because,” he said. “Because I live in another country. Because I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. There are all sorts of reasons.”

“No,” she said. “No, there aren’t. I want to live with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You can’t.”

She scowled. Tears stood out in her eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like me,” she said. “You said you did, but you lied. You’re a liar just like everyone else.”

“Melody, that’s not true.”

She turned away from him, arms crossed.

“Just go away,” she said. “I never asked for your help.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, everybody. I'm super sorry it took me so long to finish off this story. Drafts of parts 2 and 3 have actually been sitting on my computer for well over a year, but due to a variety of factors (new job, moving, problems with the story...) I wasn't able to post them until now. As it stands, I'm still a little dissatisfied with part 2, but that's the way it goes. I think it's time to finish this work and move on. Part 3 will also be posted today. Enjoy, and thanks to everyone who kept up hope that this story would be finished!


	3. Part 3: 2022

For the first several years of Melody’s time in Leadworth, the Zuckers sent Anthony regular letters, and eventually emails, detailing their “Mels’” achievements. There were photos, drawings, and descriptions. Melody always seemed happy in these descriptions, but Anthony couldn’t help noticing the veiled details in his friends’ correspondence. Mels was described as “rambunctious,” or it was mentioned that she was still “adjusting” to school. By the time she had reached her teenage years, the hints were even more overt, even as the correspondence fell off to be replaced with little more than an annual Christmas card. Occasionally, to his great interest, the cards included a picture of “Mels with her good friends, Amy and Rory,” and he would see the children who would become his parents. His mother, already tall and lovely. His father, tiny and scared-looking, but with a sweet smile. And of course, Melody—Mels—looking more and more cynical, more and more angry and disillusioned with the world as each year passed.

Anthony worried about her. Of course he worried about her. But the longer he went without seeing or communicating with her, the more he believed, as he had in his twenties, that staying out of her life was the best thing he could do. Her childhood was already confusing enough as it was. She was a friend and classmate of her biological parents. She had violent impulses she couldn’t control, and an obsession with the Doctor she couldn’t explain. Adding a younger brother who had been born more than four decades ago to the mix wouldn’t help things. He doubted she even remembered him.

Then one day, in 2011, the call came. He couldn’t exactly say he had been waiting for it, but it wasn’t unexpected. It was from Blake. Mels was missing.

“The police are searching for her,” he explained, voice shaking. “But… I don’t know. I’m not sure she wants to be found. But we’ll keep trying.”

There wasn’t much to say after that, but this was the beginning of Anthony’s years of regret and grief. How could he have knowingly done this to his friends? And why, oh why, hadn’t he visited Melody when he’d had the chance, when he’d known where she was? Now he might never see her again.

As he grew older, there were moments when he believed that loss was the defining experience of life. Perhaps, he speculated, all of your losses just build up inside you over the years until, unable to bear it any longer, your own life ends. He had never found someone to be with, never had a family or children of his own. His own parents were long dead, his sister long lost. He had no other relatives who knew of his existence. He had friends, of course, but they were not family.

Day in, day out, Anthony was alone. He woke up, he ate, he shopped, he visited his parents’ graves. He did not even have the distraction of work, having retired several years ago. His life now hinged on one moment, one last task his parents had given him to complete after they were gone.

Finally, the momentous month of the momentous year arrived. Anthony dressed in his most formal suit and traveled to Leadworth for the first time in more than thirty years. He was seventy-six, and he had a letter to deliver.

Arriving in Leadworth, Anthony was amazed by how little it had changed. The cars and clothes were different, of course, but it was fundamentally the same village. Except for the fact that, much as he kept expecting to see them, his parents and sister were not in it.

He walked through the village until he found the address he was looking for. It was on a quiet, tree-lined street. The house itself was periwinkle blue, with potted plants and flowerboxes behind the low wrought iron fence. Anthony stood in front of the house for a moment, catching his breath. His chest ached. His parents’ house. They had lived here for the first ten years of their marriage, before they’d been stranded in time. Even just seeing the outside, Anthony felt he was seeing them again, learning something about them.

He breathed in deeply, and felt for the letter in his breast pocket. It was still there. Good. He stepped forward and knocked lightly on the dark blue door. He heard footsteps from within. The door opened.

Standing at the threshold was his grandfather.

 

The next hour or so was an emotional blur for Anthony. First, there was the suspense of the letter delivery, of waiting for Brian Williams to finish reading it. Then the triumphant moment of realization and recognition. Brian embraced him, the grandson he had never known, and before Anthony knew it he was in tears, practically sobbing into his grandfather’s shoulder. They must have looked a sight—two old men, locked in embrace, the older, taller man crying into the younger man’s shirt. Both expressing their grief for the family they had lost.

Anthony elected to leave before the situation became too emotionally overwhelming. Still, overjoyed, he clapped his grandfather on the back and promised to return the next day. He would bring albums and photos, and of course stories. They had a lot of catching up to do. His grandfather, eyes equally wet, had gripped his shoulder and bid him a good evening. Then, Anthony stepped outside.

It was nearly dark by this time. The sun was below the horizon, turning the trees black and orange with shadow. Anthony wiped his eyes. He walked into the road.

“Oh, don’t go yet,” someone said.

Anthony turned toward the sound of the unexpected, unrecognized voice, brow furrowed. It took him a moment to find the person who had spoken.

Standing beneath a nearby streetlight was a young woman. All he could tell about her in the shadows was that she had wildly curly blonde hair and a curvy figure. She strode forward. Seeing her better, he realized that she was not young, not really, but closer to her mid forties. She stopped right in front of him and stared up into his face, hands on hips. He frowned in confusion at her familiarity. She smiled.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, “brother dear.”

Anthony’s jaw could have dropped to the pavement.

“Melody?” he said.

“Good to see you again, Anthony.”

With a cry of joy, he pulled her into a hug. In the background, a strange noise faded into nothing.

 

For a moment, Melody, for Melody she was, seemed to stiffen, as if she were, as she had been at seven, unused to physical contact. But then she seemed to remember, and she returned the hug. They stayed that way for several moments, before Melody pulled away. Anthony’s eyes were wet once more.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said thickly.

Melody smoothed some gray hair back from his temple.

“It took me quite some time to realize who you were,” she said.

Her accent was British, which surprised him a bit. But, then again, she had been raised here. And she had regenerated. Of course her accent had changed.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” he said.

“Well, you never did spell it all out for me,” she said. “But, over the years, I began to wonder. Why did you save me in New York? How did you know who I was? How did you know my parents? I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t ask mother and father about you, of course. Spoilers, you know. But now I know for certain.”

“You saw Mum and Dad?” Anthony said. “Recently?”

He was overwhelmed. He didn’t think he’d understood half of what she’d said, but this had stood out.

“Yes,” she said, suddenly subdued. “Today, I saw them for the last time.”

She looked away. Her face was almost impassive, save for a slight quiver of her lip, a slight downturn of her eyes.

“They were sent back in time. Trapped.”

“I know,” said Anthony.

“Of course you do,” she said. “That’s why I know who you are now. Know for certain how and why you existed in that time.”

She smiled wryly.

“It hasn’t really hit me yet,” she said. “The fact that they’re gone. I keep thinking I’ll go to see them again. Or that they’ll walk out that door any moment.”

She nodded in the direction of the blue house.

“I wonder if I’ll ever stop missing them.”

“I’ve missed them every day for thirty years,” said Anthony.

Melody took her brother’s hand and squeezed.

“Would you like to go get tea?” she said. “Or something stronger, if you prefer. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Anthony smiled.

“My whole life’s worth, for starters,” he said.

“And mine.”

They began to walk off together, hand in hand.

“I just met our grandfather, by the way,” said Anthony. “Dad’s dad. I’m seeing him tomorrow, bringing over some of the family albums. You can come, if you want.”

“Maybe I will,” said Melody. “Give him a shock.”

Anthony laughed.

“If he’s not shocked enough already. I think I might buy Mum and Dad’s house from him, by the way. Move here.”

“Oh, r _ea_ lly?”

“If you need someone to visit now that you can’t see Mum and Dad, you could always visit me.”

“I’d like that,” she said.

She squeezed his hand.

“Can I bring my husband?”

“You’re married?”

“Long story.”

She smiled wide.

“How wonderful,” she said. “A regular family reunion.”

“It won’t be too dull for you?” said Anthony.

Melody shook her head, her curls bobbing.

“I think it’s just what I’ve been missing.”

Talking and laughing, the siblings continued off into the night, together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that's all. Thanks, everyone, for your support!


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